


Heronstairs Galore

by Katiehorsie



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, heronstairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiehorsie/pseuds/Katiehorsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will become a series of disconnected, random scenes between Will and Jem, ranging from graphic smut to overly sweet fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heronstairs Galore

Will walked through the halls of the Institute, his footsteps echoing in the deserted building. Everyone had gone off to take care of something or another—he didn’t actually pay enough attention know to what it was that they were doing, only that he was supposed to be doing it as well. Being him, of course, he had gleaned exactly when they were set to leave, and he had vanished into the endless maze of corridors and rooms that made up the London Institute.   
After half an hour of trying to find him, Charlotte had sighed in defeat and decided to take off without the snarky Welsh boy. He’d watched them leave from behind the grimy, greenish panes of a window in the room he had taken shelter in, a victorious smirk lighting up his features in his dark, dank surroundings.  
But the smirk hadn’t lasted long.  
Being alone was something he was used to. How could he not be used to it? He couldn’t let people love him. He couldn’t do it, not to those whom he held so close in his heart, in the warmth that lay trapped inside a freezing cage.  
So he had always stayed far away, where he couldn’t get too close. He became a sarcastic bastard with endless, scathing comments to dish out whenever he felt anyone was becoming too fond of him.   
Yes. Loneliness was his best friend.  
Loneliness was his worst enemy.  
It pained him, time and time again. To see the pain he inflicted; to see the lengths they go to just to avoid being in the same room as him; to see their pleading looks, begging him not to do it again, to hold back that one comment they all somehow know he doesn’t want to say…  
He was an empty shell, his existence as worthless as a stone tool in a world of steel. Probably even less so. Maybe add in the use one has for soured, curdled milk to the useless rock. Then you have Will Herondale with his soulful, lifeless eyes—blue and dark as the night sky just before the sun’s sleepy rays begin to peak over the horizon—and his messy, raven locks—black as the deepest pit of hell in which he believed he belonged.  
Very few things could ever make the man shine like the star in heaven he was before he fell to Earth for his sins.  
Books, Jem, and Jem. Sounded about right.  
Will’s parabatai was all he had in this world, the one thing he spat in the face of his curse for.   
Jem was dying, after all. Well, everyone was technically slowly dying, but it wasn’t like that for Jem. He was slowly fading away, the mark of the illness and drug that leached his life away showing through his colorless hair and eyes and his painstakingly thin body.  
But Jem still shone more radiantly than anyone else Will knew. He was always a kind soul, jumping up to help anyone in need. He never complained of his ailment, not even when he coughed up blood or was to weak to get out of bed for weeks on end. He just jumped back up, eager to get back to living while he could.  
One thing about Jem, however, stood out to Will even more than his kind, brave soul that—two years after the point people never thought he would survive to, much less live past—still stubbornly refused to give up on life.   
That would be the magical way Jem played his violin. The music he played was always so beautiful, so expressive. It was like a soothing balm for Will’s battered, lonely soul. It drew him in like an unsuspecting sailor to the song of a siren. It took away the pain. When Will heard the sweet melody, he could close his eyes and forget all about his curse and Jem’s uncertain future. The entire world fell away, and he was finally left in peace.   
He sometimes wondered if that was what death was like, just listening to Jem’s playing. If it was, he’d have no qualms following his parabatai to whatever afterlife existed beyond the grave. At least then he’d find his peace.  
His footsteps faltered for a second, their echoing sound fading from the air, leaving way for something else.  
It was faint, like a fine mist hanging in the air. But he recognized it. He always did.  
Jem’s violin.  
Will’s footsteps picked up again, this time faster. With purpose. They floated through the air, down the halls and past endless doors. Weaving into the music’s web. Sounding steady as a ticking clock. All the while his heart beat sporadically in his chest.   
And finally he found himself in front of the door to the music room. It was half open, the music spilling out, almost as if it had purposefully been left that way.  
Jem didn’t give any sign that he heard the door creak open when Will stepped in. Jem just continued playing his violin, his eyes closed as his fingers ran up and down the fingerboard with well practiced and tender movements.   
Will had often read in books that people were always so much more peaceful and vulnerable looking when asleep. But he disagreed with that statement. To him, Jem never looked calmer or more at peace than when he played the violin, and the way Jem poured his emotions into his music was like giving any listeners a look straight into his very heart and soul.  
The corners of Will’s mouth quirked up into a small, sincere smile as he watched, one that truly made him seem like he was shining with all the light of the sun. He silently made his way to one of the armchairs in the room, sitting and watching his parabatai play.   
As he listened, he could feel himself relax. Jem did have that contagious aura of his hanging around him. Everyone near him seemed to always be affected by it, and Will was no different. If anything, Will much more affected by Jem’s aura.  
When Will’s eyes began to droop closed, Jem’s music finally cut short, the last notes ringing in the air before fading into nothing.  
“Glad to see you’re still alive and well,” Jem said, placing his instrument on the grand piano and sitting across from Will. “Charlotte was throwing quite a fit when we couldn’t find you.”  
“I wasn’t aware that my presence was required.” Will rested his head back on the back of his chair.  
“We were both supposed to go to the Lightwoods’ with the others.”  
Will looked up at Jem. “Then it is a very good thing that my memory is fading as I reach such a great age.”  
Jem chuckled at his parabatai and rested his chin on his fist.   
“What unfortunate event caused you to stay behind as well?” Will asked.  
“I stayed to be sure that you didn’t get into any trouble while unattended.”  
“I suppose that is a good enough reason to justify not visiting the lovely Lightwoods.”  
Jem studied Will for a minute, noticing the slight tenseness in his shoulders and the slight clench of his jaw. “What’s the true reason for you staying behind?”  
Will blinked at his friend. Normally Jem would just accept whatever strange explinations Will gave him, even if he didn’t believe them. He rarely asked for the actual reason.  
But presented with this strange turn of events, Will found himself almost longing to tell his parabatai about his curse. He could confess the horrible secret he had held so close in the shadows of his heart for so very long. It would just take a few words.   
A demon cursed me. Whoever loves me dies.   
That was it. Will believed that Jem would take his dirty secret in stride, but that was selfish thinking to believe that. How would Jem feel if he knew that—for all of these years—Will might as well have been killing him. That Will knew what would happen to Jem, but he still let it happen? They may be closer than brothers, but there had to be limits, right?  
And so Will squashed that little bit of longing. He could never tell Jem. He couldn’t handle Jem hating him. He could live with everyone else hating him, but never Jem.  
“I enjoy causing problems,” Will said finally.  
Jem raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”  
“Quite.”  
“If you say so,” Jem said, standing up. “Do you want to go to Hyde Park?”  
“And frolic amongst the ducks? I’d much rather go frolic amongst the Lightwoods.”  
“I’m going to Hyde Park,” Jem announced, ignoring his parabatai and heading for the door. “Join me if you wish.”  
“But what about the ducks?” Will asked, standing as well.  
“They’re just ducks, Will. They can’t harm you.”  
“Yes they can,” Will grumbled. But he followed Jem out the door, and the two went to Hyde Park. But when Jem decided to feed the ducks, Will stayed far away from the little bastards that, he thought, were much, much more damned than he was.


End file.
